


Tall Americano, Iced.

by Asphault



Series: Dream Team (and friends) Drabbles [2]
Category: Dream Team - Fandom, Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Angst with a Happy Ending, Background Niki | Nihachu/Wilbur Soot, Dream Is Bad At Feelings, F/M, Florida, Fluff and Angst, Gay Panic, George and Niki and Big Q are work friends, George has gay panic, I've never written slow burn before so maybe not slow burn, Light Angst, M/M, Mutual Pining, Pining, Slow Burn, Strangers to Lovers, Unrequited Crush, big Q having a small crisis, i'll try, no beta we die like men, why are all these Europeans in florida
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-12
Updated: 2020-12-20
Packaged: 2021-03-10 02:20:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 16,317
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27526795
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Asphault/pseuds/Asphault
Summary: This man is a regular. George can't name a single day he hadn't come in, ordered a Tall Iced Americano with 4 extra shots, and cozied into the table in the back corner. Niki barely even has to double check the name written on the cup as she calls, "Dream!"  And the blonde comes to retrieve his drink. George never gets used to that name.Dream.
Relationships: Alexis | Quackity & GeorgeNotFound, Alexis | Quackity & Niki | Nihachu, Alexis | Quackity & Niki | Nihachu & GeorgeNotFound, Clay | Dream & Sapnap (Video Blogging RPF), Clay | Dream/GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF), GeorgeNotFound & Niki | Nihachu, Niki | Nihachu/Wilbur Soot
Series: Dream Team (and friends) Drabbles [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2011903
Comments: 192
Kudos: 930





	1. Iced Chocolate Mocha

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> in this chapter, George is very foreword. Will this work out for him? Does he embarrass himself? Find out in this (and the next) chapter.  
> Also, only a small percentage of people who read this story are actually subscribed. So if you're not subscribed and you end up liking this chapter, consider subscribing. It's free, and you can always change your mind.  
> Enjoy the chapter!

George hums gently at the brisk morning, basking in the way the cool air kisses his cheeks. Autumn is only beginning in Orlando, and the temperature is likely nearing 70°, but even the smallest bit of reprieve from the summer heat brought George's mind back to London. Although the air is far cleaner here in Orlando, and it rains a lot less, George still misses the UK a lot. However, his mom was right about the fresh start being good for him, because starting up somewhere new feels like the change George had been waiting for.

Double checking that he had locked the door to his flat behind him, he began the walk to work. He hadn't had a license in the first place, but how that he was living in America where the streets are backwards, it was out of the question entirely. Luckily for George, the coffeehouse that pays his bills is only a few blocks away and the walk isn’t long. There has been this sneaking anxiety that tightens around George's spine as he walks to work, and today is no different. Three months into his Orlando residency, and the neighborhood still felt unsettling and foreign, despite being in a relatively nice part of town. 

Coming up on the sign reading 'Bishop coffee' helps to ease the worry in George's bones, and walking into the delightful scent of fresh baked goods and fresh roast finishes off that last bit of tension. Niki is at the counter, taking a blonde man's order in her german accent. She offers George a nod as he gets in line behind the tall blonde. This man is a regular at Bishop; George can't name a single day he hadn't come in, ordered a Tall Iced Americano with 4 extra shots, and cozied into the table in the back corner. Subconsciously, George's eyes follow as the man pays Niki for the Americano and returns to his usual spot in the back, unpacking a laptop and beginning to type away on it. 

"What can I get you, Georgie?" Niki chirps, bringing George’s attention back to the task at hand. She’s one of the few people George would dare to call a friend here in Florida. 

"Iced chocolate mocha, please and thanks." 

She writes the order down diligently and checks the time as George passes her the exact amount (in American money that he still isn’t quite used to), "Are you going to sit today? You're early." 

"Yeah, I plan to." George hums, watching as their co-worker, Alex, passes Niki the americano, grabs the slip of paper containing George’s order, and shoots him a wave before starting on the mocha he had ordered. 

Niki barely even has to double check the name written on the cup as she calls, "Dream!" And the blonde comes to retrieve his drink. George never gets used to that name, even though he hears it called out almost every day. When the man is right next to him, George subconsciously puffs out his chest, because 'Dream' is ungodly tall and broad. He thanks Niki for the drink in his warm, caramel voice before leaving the counter. George ignores the way his heart clenches at the simple ‘thanks’ and mentally curses himself, because that voice is amazing.

Alex passes the iced mocha over Niki's shoulder, warning her with a drawn out ‘Gogy~!’, and she doesn't bat an eye as George takes it and turns, looking for a seat in the busy café. He swallows thickly when his eyes catch on the empty chair across from Dream, who's got that hollow look in his eye as those long fingers clack away on his laptop. This Dream guy always has the same tired look on his face, something sad and longing, but subtle. You'll never catch it if you don't stare the way George does. The brit startles as another customer comes up behind him, and before he can process that his legs are moving, George is in front of the empty seat, looking at Dream like a deer in headlights. 

He's blushing stupidly when he asks, “is this seat is taken?

The larger man hums, interest piqued by George’s accent, “Be my guest” that Caramel voice returns, and George hopes that Dream can’t see how he shudders. 

George plops down immediately, taking a swig of his coffee while the other man at the table returns to his work. It’s awkward, the way they’re in silence, but Dream is still wearing the same face he always has, so maybe it’s just George overthinking. Accompanying the solemn look on Dream’s face is a galaxy made of freckles, an eye colour that George can’t discern, and an overall masculine shape. In comparison, George feels small and soft, especially because he isn’t made up of hard lines, tanned skin, and height like Dream is. No, George is pale, cherubic and short. 

Dream catches him staring, and George panics, swallows the coffee in his mouth, and spits out the first thing he can think of, “You’re hot.” 


	2. Caramel Cream

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> in this chapter, Dream says sadboy hours, and we get to meet his roomate! Where do the sadboy hours come from? How does George tie into this? find out in this chapter!   
> Also, only a small percentage of people who read this story are actually subscribed. So if you're not subscribed and you end up liking this chapter, consider subscribing. It's free, and you can always change your mind.  
> Enjoy the chapter!

It’s absolutely scorching, the way his eyes look, akin to a supernova as that burning gaze collapses everything and ignites everything in its path of fury. It ignites George. His entire being lights up in a blush and bristles with goosebumps. Dream finally lets the supernova explode in it’s last moment of glory with a wheezing laugh. George lets out the breath he had been holding, eyes searching for a proper response to that oh so embarrassing statement. 

“Thanks. It’s been a long time since someone made me laugh like that.” Dream sips the coffee in front of him and props himself up on an arm, “So? What’d you really come over here for?” 

George softens significantly at the relaxed look melting over Dream’s features. Expecting the worst after his tongue had slipped, George was glad the other man had been so willing to brush it off. Maybe if he were _trying_ to flirt, it’d be offensive to have someone blatantly ignore such bold advances; but George didn’t wake up today trying to land some dude who calls himself ‘Dream’ of all things. 

“Um.. I wanted to ask about what you order. You come in a lot.. So… Y’know, I was wondering what’s so good to keep you coming back.” it’s the first thing George can think of, because if he decided to be honest, he’d have to tell Dream he had no clue why he had sat here. 

“It’s an americano with four shots. You could’ve asked your coworker. She always takes my order.” Dream says, no malice behind his words as he picks at his nails. They’re painted a shiny black, and small flakes of the polish chip off with each scratch. George tries not to stare, but with an absolute enigma in front of your eyes, it’s hard not to. 

“I guess so, yeah. But that feels kinda creepy. Would you recommend it?” 

“No, it’s really bitter.” 

They fall into a natural silence as Dream returns to his laptop, dialed into his work. George nurses his drink, staring idly into the plastic cup on Dream’s side of the table. It’s half full, mostly ice at this point, swimming in a rich darkness. It’s strange to continually order the same thing if it isn’t to your liking. Eying Dream, George wonders about what has him coming back so religiously. A sigh tumbles into the quiet between the two men as George dusts himself off and stands. 

“Thanks for letting me sit with you. I’ve gotta go start my shift, but this was nice.” He says, and he means it. Because something about sitting quietly and enjoying the company of another person was comfortable; soothing even. It feels good to share time with someone else, even if he doesn’t have to. 

“Yeah, you’re welcome to come sit any time,” Dream says, sparing George a small glance before scanning his screen with tired eyes. He sips the last bit of that Americano up, “I like hearing you talk.” 

That burning feeling returns, brewing in the bottom of George’s stomach and engulfing his whole body in a flustered blush, “Bye, Dream.” he says meekly, taking both of their empty drinks with him to the back and clocking in. 

“Gogy’s got a new boyfriend~” Alex sings, dancing into the back room obnoxiously as George ties an apron around his waist. 

George doesn’t even argue, because knowing Alex, he’d just take any protesting as further ammunition to poke at him. The younger man takes off his apron and prepares to go, Niki shouts back to George. “Georgie! Caramel cream cold brew please!”  
Alex and George pass quick goodbyes, as George makes his way to begin the drink. 

* * *

Dream finishes up the last line of code before saving the progress, desperate to not lose it like he had last time. The whirring laptop fades to silence as it is finally given a break and put in Dream’s backpack where it belongs. Leaving the solace of the coffee shop and heading back into the orlando heat always makes him feel the way he did when he’d moved into his first apartment. Alone and homesick. 

The sinking feeling in Dream’s chest is short lived, because just as the door is closing behind him, a smiling figure waves from behind the glass. Pausing to squint his eyes, Dream realizes that it’s George, waving instead of wrapping up whatever drink he’s making. Dream waves back, (mildly dazed because their interaction was so minimal, and now George was waving him goodbye? weird.) laughing as Niki turns and begins to scold him for losing focus. It’s heartwarming in a way, making the walk to Dream’s toaster oven of a car that much more enjoyable. 

Starting up the car, Dream tries not to linger on how something so small has him smiling all the way home, and instead chooses to turn on the radio. It successfully represses the concept of George possibly being serious about the whole ‘you’re hot’ thing, and distracts from the way Dream’s cheeks are getting sore from the smiling. Instead, Dream focuses on his legs sticking to the hot leather seat and the steadily cooling air pouring from the vents. It’s relatively nice out, but the temperature has been creeping to it’s apex, and the autumn humidity made it just a tad annoying. 

Finally parking the car and shuffling into the air conditioned reprieve of his home, Dream feels that pit begin to grow in his chest again. It always shows up when things are too quiet, curling into the crevices of Dream’s conscious mind and eating away any comfort he had properly felt. A heavy sigh tears through him, slouching broad shoulders and kicking off worn out red converse. 

“Clay?” a lilted voice calls, from somewhere further in the house, and Dream finds himself basking in the way it distracts him from the clawing loneliness. 

“Yeah, it’s me.” Dream looks up, perfectly anticipating the way Wilbur rolls his leather desk seat over to peer at Dream, just through the doorway. They’d done a good job of falling into a rhythm around one another, and that’s the way Dream likes it. Predictable. 

Wilbur offers a nod before going back to work, strumming at his guitar. A year ago, Dream had found the other man’s listing searching for a roommate. He was hoping to find another guy preferably, who was responsible, quiet, and willing to put up with Wilbur’s musical escapades. Dream was a perfect fit, because he loved being surrounded by noise, and was usually sitting quietly as he worked on coding projects. Fortunately they got along well too, both being introverts with a passion for awkward humor and admiration for music. When Wilbur found out about Dream’s hatred for silence, he had kindly offered to keep his office door open while he was working; So that’s how it had been ever since. 

With the plucking of strings to occupy his busy mind, Dream returned to his cave of a bedroom, only to catch a glimpse of himself in the mirror. He looked… Tired. Wisps of blonde hair escaped his ponytail, and the fringe around his face looked a bit matted. The bags under those dull green eyes didn’t help to make him look any more lively. Retying his hair up and washing his face, Dream promised himself that he would _not_ fall asleep. Today was going to be productive, whether the darkness clogging up his chest liked it or not.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wilbur :,)


	3. Black Tea

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> in this chapter, it's really rainy, and the coffee shop is unusually dead. What will the gang get up to? Where is dream? Find out!  
> Also, only a small percentage of people who read this story are actually subscribed. So if you're not subscribed and you end up liking this chapter, consider subscribing. It's free, and you can always change your mind.  
> Enjoy the chapter!

Warm rain showers make it hard to leave bed, George finds. On days like this, he wants nothing more than to hole up and read a book or play a game with the pitter pattering in the background. Unfortunately, here he was, pausing under the awning outside of Bishop, shaking the droplets off of his blue umbrella and mentally preparing for another day at work. The world smells like rainy heat, and just peeking through the glass of the picture window tells George that the morning showers have kept more people at home than expected. God, would it be nice to go home and get an extra hour or two.

Niki is behind the counter like she usually is, keeping everything in order. When her baby blues land on George she lights up, “Georgie! Did you see Dream on your way here?” she asks, discarding the sticky note she was doodling on.

George groans, putting his umbrella on the rack, “Is Alex telling you that guy’s my boyfriend?”  
Alex calls from the back, “No!”, but Niki says yes at the same time. George can’t help but roll his eyes and smile fondly, joining the other two baristas behind the till, “If you were asking seriously, No, There wasn’t much of anybody out there.”

The entire shift, the three of them speculate on where the mysterious blonde could have been. Niki proposes that he might be out of town, eying the corner table that Dream usually sits at. Alex says he’s definitely dead, or on the run from the government 'because what kind of non-criminal is named Dream', his boisterous laugh ringing out as George shakes his head, starting the day’s batch of cookies. Personally George just assumes that the other man is busy, or maybe stopped at a bigger coffee chain like Starbucks if he was in a rush.

George is folding chocolate chips into the batter when the day’s first customer comes in, a young girl with dyed hair. She orders a flat white, and that’s the only drink the three of them make until lunch rush hits. George is making hot americano when he stumbles upon the thought that maybe Dream didn’t come in today because of how awkward their conversation had been the day before. Sure, the taller man invited George back to his table in the future, but that could’ve been pleasantries. He drops the train of thought when he subconsciously adds four extra shots of espresso and has to remake the drink.

When Niki takes her break around 3:30, George takes her place at the register, drumming his fingers against the marble counter and watching the rain run down the windows. A few bodies are blurred by the running water, but upon realizing that the two men are about to come in, George straightens his posture and puts on the customer service smile.  
“Welcome to Bishop!” He says, before he can properly process that Dream is one of the men, blonde hair pressed to his forehead by the rain as he holds the door open behind him. The second guy is a hair taller than Dream, with big glasses on the bridge of his nose and curly brown(?) hair.

Dream barely has the chance to wave to the familiar baristas when Alex shouts to the break room, “Hey Niki! Dream’s here!” and then George is being crowded at the counter with Alex and Niki pressing into his sides.

The taller man with the dark hair laughs, clapping Dream n the shoulder, “You’re quite popular, Dream.’” He says, deep voice coated in the same warm, lilted accent that George is so used to hearing.

Dream barely acknowledges that (very true) statement, “Hey guys.” he greets, eyes flicking from face to face in acknowledgement.  
“What can we do for you today?” Niki and George ask simultaneously, giving each other a hard look before they can receive a response.

“Niki, you’re technically on break.”

“I’ll finish it later!”

“Just let me take care of it."

“No, I always take Dream’s order!” she pouts, and George can never hold his ground with her puppy-dog eyes. He sighs, giving her more room as the others look on in amusement.

“Okay, what’ll you boys be having?” Niki reiterates, smiling brightly up at them.

Dream shares a glance with the other man, who hums softly and looks over the menu for a brief moment, “I’ll take a black tea, Clay will have his usual.”

Niki is too busy jotting down the order habitually (even though George and Alex are right there, listening to the order in time with her), but George catches the name. Clay. George meets Dream’s eyes, and the other man is sharing the same look of surprise, maybe alarm.

“Order name?”

“Wilbur.”

The two of them go to Dream’s favourite corner table, and Niki passes the slip of paper to her coworkers with a smile. Once they’re out of earshot, she turns to George, who’s already started on the Americano, “Georgie, isn’t that Wilbur guy cute?” she chirps, cheeks beginning to ache with the smitten smile on her soft features.

“Yeah, he’s pretty handsome.” George offers, mind still cloudy with the concept of ‘Clay = Dream’. It’s hard to associate a new name with someone he’d grown familiar with, especially with a title that sticks with you as much as ‘Dream.’ Niki doesn’t seem to care though, she’s looking over her shoulder at the table where Wilbur and Clay sit, laughing together at some video Dream is playing on his phone.

“Not as handsome as Dream, eh George?” Alex teases, nudging him with a shoulder as he sets the hot mug of tea on the counter. George places the iced americano beside it and shakes his head at the younger boy. Sure Dream is attractive, George had called him hot before, but he isn’t sold on it the way Niki seems to be with Wilbur. She calls his name, and the brunet makes his way back to the till, thanking the three of them with a warm voice and a similarly warm smile.

Niki is basically vibrating in her blush when she skips back to the breakroom, waving her fingers at Alex and George as she departs. Alex is already preparing for closing time even though it’s an hour away when he offers an unusually kind smile to George.

“Hey Gogy, can I ask you something?”

George doesn’t hesitate, picking up the milk frother to join the others in cleanup, “Of course you can. We’re friends.”

He doesn’t miss the way Alex’s smile softens so significantly, even as he’s hard at work cleaning out one of the blenders. He takes a breath and lets it out, not nervous, but somewhere between conflicted and confused.

“How did you know you like guys?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> can we tell that I like black tea


	4. Blueberry Muffins

Dream stirs the drink in front of him around with the straw, relishing in the way the ice crunches against itself so familiarly. He had stayed up late working on the website commission he’d taken on a week ago, consequently sleeping in as well. Wilbur was nice enough to tap on Dream’s door around 1:00 pm, stirring him from the fitful sleep that dug its claws into him like a vice. Nightmares are no stranger to Dream’s busy mind, and although one would normally be upset about being torn from sleep, Dream was beyond grateful. 

Having missed his morning trip to the coffee house, Dream had a slow start. Wilbur, once again, an angel of a man, proposed that they go together after Dream cleaned up. So that’s the story behind how the two men end up at Dream’s favourite table. He’s drinking in the homely feeling that Bishop provides. There’s some gentle acoustic music playing overhead, and Wilbur is most definitely picking it apart in his mind. Rainfall hitting glass filters in alongside the melody, and everything feels as it should. Content. 

Wilbur seems to take in the atmosphere as well, offering Dream a smile once he’s done assessing it, “So you have these guys call you Dream? Why?” he asks, lip quirking in a telltale sign of amusement. 

The name ‘Dream’ had come about when Clay started freelance coding as a highschooler. Clay wasn’t fully prepared to to come out the gate as an amature coder with his real name, so he’d haphazardly cut his minecraft gamertag in half. Ever since then, Clay became Dream when he was working. 

Dream sighs, nodding his head, “Yeah, I was basically about to pass out the first time I came in here to finish a project. I told Niki the wrong name, but she thought it was cool, so it stuck.” The memory was close to being fond, but the stress of two all nighters fueled by coffee and a deadline kind of ruined it. Since then, he’d sworn to himself that he’d get on a normal schedule (with an iffy success rate).

Wilbur hums in thought, taking the teabag out of his drink at the perfect time, because 24 years of life being an english man had prepared him well. There’s not any other customers in today, which feels strange, but it allows the two of them to enjoy the music and banter coming from behind the counter. Dream can pick out George’s voice, no matter how gentle it might be, saying something about his first year in uni; Dream isn’t invested enough to dial in any further. 

“How often does that Niki girl work here?” 

Dream feels a small laugh bubble up from his chest as he sips on the americano, “She’s really pretty, isn’t she? She’s usually around on weekdays.” he explains, thinking back to the bleach blonde German girl. For being two strangers, they had shared a lot of small talk, and Dream could tell from the get-go that Wilbur would be a fan of her.

“Yeah, she seems pretty fond of you, taking time out of her break for your order and all.” the taller man is giving his roommate a ‘knowing’ look, trying to insinuate that there’s an attraction going on between them. Dream almost wishes there was chemistry between himself and someone - anyone, really - but he still feels the dull ache of his last failed relationship pulsing in the back of his head. 

He manages to shrug nonchalantly, looking back at the till where she usually stands, “Yeah, we see each other a lot. Nothing like what you’re thinking though,” Dream laughs gently, fondly remembering the day before, “the brunet called me hot yesterday.” 

This piques Wilbur’s interest, because he’s craning his neck to look back at where George and Alex are talking and cleaning machines. He takes another drink of the tea in front of him and looks to Dream, “Think I might ask for her number then.” 

The two of them share a look, confidence on one end, and support on the other. Dream tries not to linger on the subtle envy that surfaces when he thinks about his own lack of faith in himself. Even if Dream has that kind of confidence laying dormant somewhere, it’s useless with the nagging feeling of grief that thrives on Dream’s heart, even after six months. It’s hot and angry, boiling over in the vault it’s sealed in. Just remembering it weighs down on the blond, sparking a pang of jealousy as one of the baristas, Alex, comes out from behind the counter, smiling wide and waving an enthusiastic goodbye. 

“Bye Gogy, thanks again!” he calls, just reaching the door. 

George leans on the countertop, giving a wave of his own, “Of course, glad I could help!” 

Niki returns to George's side and offers their coworker a wave as well, then she catches Dream and Wilbur watching the exchange. She’s got that gentle smile on still, and the familiarity helps soothe the anger that came along a moment ago. Dream shoves away the bit of guilt he feels for being so upset over someone else’s enthusiasm and joy, because he knows he'd feel worse if he were to inconvenience people as kind as Niki and George, “Do you guys mind if we stay until close?” 

Of course neither of them have a problem with it. Dream is somehow Niki’s favourite patron, and George may or may not think he’s attractive, so the two of them are fine letting him and Wilbur stay longer than needed. It’s partially because Dream wants to give his amazing roommate a chance to chat with the girl he fancies, and partially because this place is one of the only places in Orlando that doesn’t remind him of Sam. Wilbur makes small talk with George and Niki in between drinks of his tea, Dream chimes in only when invited to, because it feels good to sip on his coffee and mindlessly watch the two baristas wipe down tables. 

He must underestimate Wilbur’s charisma, because when Niki stretches up toward the ceiling and asks George what they should do with their last 15 minutes, Wilbur invites them over, “You could come sit with us.” Wilbur says, sliding over on the bench to make room and patting the seat beside him. 

Niki nods, then pauses, “Oh hold on! Let me get you guys some pastries! We have to throw them all out at the end of the day anyways, so it’s on the house!” She chirps, speeding off behind the counter and returning with a plate of muffins. 

Setting them on the table, Niki takes up Wilbur’s offer and sits herself beside him. Dream grabs what he assumes to be a blueberry muffin and slides closer to the wall, just as Wilbur had, gesturing for George to join him, “Well?” 

George takes a moment, reviewing the closing procedures and making sure they don’t leave any of their chores neglected. Then he sees Niki’s pleading eyes - she obviously likes this Wilbur guy - and George sees no choice other than to be her wingman. Not to mention that yesterday Dream had said ‘You’re welcome to sit any time’ and the kind proposition still makes him smile, so he sits across from Niki. 15 minutes can’t hurt, and after the heavy conversation with Alex, George could use some pointless smalltalk. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yall gotta wait to find out what's going on with Big Q B)


	5. OJ

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> in this chapter, there is a lot of texting. We learn about Quackity and George's conversation at work, George's home life, and that the work gang has a chaos groupchat.  
> Also, only a small percentage of people who read this story are actually subscribed. So if you're not subscribed and you end up liking this chapter, consider subscribing. It's free, and you can always change your mind.  
> Enjoy the chapter!

George groans into his pillows at  _ another  _ chime coming from his phone. Waking up on his day off at 9:00 AM to Niki blowing up his phone wasn’t the most ideal way to start. He’s a night owl at heart, with a totally ruined sleep schedule, but here Niki was, dragging him out of sleep after only 4 hours. George couldn’t really find it in himself to blame her though. That Wilbur guy from the cafe had asked for her number, and is apparently really funny, extremely considerate, and  _ super  _ into Niki. and she can’t handle the attention and the way it makes her heart hammer if she isn’t spamming their group chat. 

Relishing in the comfort of his bed for a moment or two, George finally rolls over and presses the power button. 

**NiUWUchu (19/09 9:17 AM)**

GUYS HE PLAYS GUITAR jfnwfbkewj

**Big Qdoba (19/09 9:17 AM)**

I play guitar too Ò-Ó 

Are guys automatically hot if they play guitar

Bc im winning then B)

**Googly Moogly (19/09 9:18 AM)**

Guitar playing is only attractive if you can play more than wonderwall

**Big Qdoba (19/09 9:20 AM)**

Damn im so sexc then

Also gogs check DMs

George reads the message and promptly ignores it in favor of a shower, a glass of orange juice and a measly piece of toast. Putting up with Niki’s melting heart on an empty stomach is one thing, but Alex’s near constant chaotic energy is another. On the way back to his room, George opens all the windows, breathing in the fresh air greedily, relaxing his shoulders and preparing himself for whatever Alex has to say this early in the morning. 

Then he stops, hands resting on the window sill. It’s possible that the text has to do with last night. George had never really expected to become someone to ask for advice, but when Alex stopped his messing around and asked so openly about his sexuality, he had no choice but to help.

_ “How did you know you like guys?” Alex asks, eyes fleeting. He seems troubled, but not overly concerned, looking from George to the task at hand, then back again.  _

_ George pauses to think about his response, trying his best not to appear judgemental or surprised. Focusing on the milk frother instead of Alex’s curious gaze helps pull the thoughts into something coherent, “I don’t really remember any specific moment where I just… knew. I never really liked girls growing up, but it wasn’t a big deal to me. I only started noticing guys in my first year of Uni. This one time, I caught myself staring at the guy sitting next to me during a lecture - I think that’s when I started figuring it out.”  _

_ Alex nods, hanging onto every word that George says. There’s another question sitting on his tongue, but he isn’t sure if it’d be okay to ask it or not, so instead he focuses on the closing routine. George continues though, because sometimes you just know when to say more.  _

_ “It’s okay to be questioning, Alex. I only ever decided I was gay when someone asked about my sexuality and it just seemed to be the one that worked. You don’t have to label everything, or even pretend that it makes sense. Just… feel it out. It’ll make itself clearer in time.”  _

_ There is a beat of silence, and George hesitates before glancing over at Alex, only to find him staring at the task at hand, processing the words. “I don’t?”  _

_ “No, of course not,” George smiles, “and if you need someone to be by your side while you figure it out, I’m always here for you, dude.”  _

_ Then Alex threw his arms around his friend, letting out a laugh - not his usual barking laugh, no, this was soft and warm, full of emotion as he felt the pressure in his chest slip away, “Thanks George.”  _

_ “Of course. I wouldn’t want you to have to go through it alone.”  _

George recalls his own coming out - the way he’d been so afraid of being honest with himself and the people around him. His father had been livid and George ended up having to spend the night on a friend’s couch. Luckily Floris, also being a part of the LGBT community was ready to take George in with open arms. George remembers crying on his friend’s shoulder until he fell asleep, and when his mother called and asked him to come home, Floris made sure that George would be going back to a safe home. Mentally, he makes a note to call his old friend to catch up. 

With the reminder of his amazing friends and family, George returns to his room with a newfound determination to be the supportive friend that he needed while figuring out his own sexuality. Rifling through his blankets just long enough to rescue the discarded phone, and opening Alex’s message, George’s heart warms. 

**🙈🥰** **Alex From Work** **😼** 🤪 **(19/09 9:14 AM)**

Gogyyyy

Thanks again for yesterday lol i really needed that. 

I’m having a hard time like,,, figuring out if i actually

like this guy or if im just being weird >:p 

I hope you dont mind my crisis lmao i dont know who 

else would be cool listening to me be  ✨ confused ✨

**Me (19/09 9:48 AM)**

Ofc  🥺  i really dont mind at all tho

I would rather you have some help figuring it out than

u stressing out over it all alone 

It’s easier to talk to someone who has been through the same 

thing ur going through

**🙈🥰** **Alex From Work** **😼** 🤪 **(19/09 9:52 AM)**

Fr

Like i was gonna talk to niki about it bc yknow she’s cool about this shit 

But i didn’t want her to feel pressured to help. Like u dont even need to help me gogy i just need someone to listen to me be stupid 

**Me (19/09 9:53 AM)**

I love listening to u be dumb  🥺

I promise to help however i can though  ❤️🧡💛💚💙💜

**🙈🥰** **Alex From Work** **😼** 🤪 **(19/09 10:00 AM)**

Aww gay hearts from gogy 

Thanks again :’) 

Gtg work tho peace out

**Me (19/09 10:00 AM)**

Hope it goes well! Say hi to Dream and Wilbur for me if they come in

**🙈🥰** **Alex From Work** **😼** 🤪 **(19/09 10:00 AM)**

Ugh you and niki are gross 

But i will 

Bc i love u 

Be grateful bitch 

**Me (19/09 10:01 AM)**

Thank  ❤️

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i committed to naming gogy's chapters after drinks that appear in the chapters and dream's after food that appears in the chapter but i keep forgetting lol


	6. Cinnamon Roll

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for not updating all last week! Should hopefully be back to updating this story every other day now. Also keep an eye out, my next Karlnap fic is coming soon! (also sorry this chapter is a bit shorter than normal. I usually make sure there's at least a thousand words per chapter, but i didn't wanna cram any useless stuff into this chapter)
> 
> Also, only a small percentage of people who read this story are actually subscribed. So if you're not subscribed and you end up liking this chapter, consider subscribing. It's free, and you can always change your mind.  
> Enjoy the chapter!

Staring at the blank white expanse of his ceiling, Clay feels the loneliness eating at him. He knows he isn’t alone - The sound of Wilbur mixing a track flows into his room, the same line with minuscule changes repeating over and over until it’s perfect. But the bed around him is cold, there’s nobody else’s belongings cluttering the room. It’s just Clay, surrounded helplessly with himself and only himself.

Things used to feel less lonely when Sam was around, visiting randomly throughout the week just to fill Wilbur and Clay’s home with sunshine. Helplessly in love, Clay would cook dinner for his boyfriend, they would do the dishes together - domestic things like that. Things that felt like their lives were mingling and beginning to hold on one another.

They were still in love when they broke up, and the traces Sam left in his wake still marked the home months after the breakup, reminding Clay almost every day that he’s alone. Even looking at his bedspread caused an ache in his chest, because they’d spend nights under the very same duvet, talking about absolute nonsense until they drifted off.

Sam was just as passionate about coding as his boyfriend. Maybe even more so. That’s why when his program teaching kids how to code had finally found funding, all the way across the country in Washington, they both knew what was coming. Clay never would have asked Sam to stay, give up on his passion; So when he came to the blonde with soft eyes, visibly torn on what to do, Clay said to take the opportunity. And then Sam suggested that they should break up. Both of them knew Clay’s love language to be heavily built on skinship, hugs and kisses and mementos. Like the hoodie draped over his desk chair, the chip in a blue ceramic plate, Sam’s textbooks on the floor. That’s how Clay felt love. Long distance would tear him apart, and they both knew it.

It was for the best. But it still hurt.

Tears well up in Dream’s eyes before he even realizes, because he’s thinking about Sam with just as much admiration as he always has; but ever since the taller man had moved away, the love slowly began fading into something sore and sad. A bruise that never gets a chance to heal, because everything all over town reminds him of Sam. The library, the supermarket, the park where they shared their first kiss, the taste of tea and the smell of cold winter mornings; everything ties back to him.  
Dream wishes things could be different. Draping an arm over his wet eyes, he tries to think about anything else, focus on Wilbur’s song, something about Vienna. But it’s silent. Clay sits up with a start, confusion washing away the hurt as he quirks a brow to the room across the hall. The door is still open and Wilbur’s looking down at his desk; so Clay’s first thought is that he fell asleep.

Throwing his feet over the edge of the bed and onto the soft carpet, Clay pads into Wilbur’s room quietly, hoping not to wake him, “Wilby?”

The tall brunet whips his head around to face his roommate with a wild grin, cheeks red with fluster as his chocolate eyes lock onto green, “Niki asked me out on a date.”

Shockingly, his first reaction isn’t jealousy. Dream’s smiling just as wide as Wilbur as he places his hands on his shoulders and shakes him vigorously, “ Let’s go!” He cheers, loud and harsh, as if his favourite team had won the superbowl. Wilbur laughs, voice full of joy as he joins in on the cheering. It’s refreshing, seeing Will so happy, and knowing that Niki is the reason feels safe. He knows he can trust her with Wilbur.

“Wanna come with?”

Dream’s taken aback, tilting his head in confusion. Luckily Wilbur doesn’t waste time in elaborating, “She said she’d like to do a casual date. Invite You and George, the four of us can hang out.”

_George?_

Clay barely thinks about it. His mind paints a beautiful image of George’s flushed face from the other day when he had misspoken a compliment. It’s a breathtaking memory even though it’s still fresh, and for the first time Clay realizes how gorgeous the other man is. He immediately agrees, “Yeah, a double date? I can do that.”

Wilbur’s face softens significantly as he looks back to his phone, probably reporting back to Niki. Dream knows it’s because he hasn’t been on a date in months - Will is always saying that he needs to get out there again. He knows it’s true, that he can’t keep dwelling on the past; and when he thinks of George… Something in him warms indefinitely and the furthest thing from his mind is Sam and what they used to have.

Instead, his mouth fills with the flavor of coffee and cinnamon rolls, and somehow the comforting air that Bishop builds has found their way into their home, banishing Clay’s anxieties and Wilbur’s sadness and flooding their senses with happiness. Dream, filled with a new motivation, goes back to his room and begins to code a new plugin. In the other room, Wilbur begins to write something a little less sad.

Even without Sam, the sunshine found its way into their house, warming the surface of Dream’s heart, it’s rays caressing the bruises and sores leftover from his last love. _Finally_ the sun is back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> girl i really said 'background Wilbur/Niki' and then consistently put them in EVERY CHAPTER BC I HAVE NO SELF CONTROL


	7. Cold Brew

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> in this chapter, George is gay. Are any of us surprised? probably not.   
> Also, only a small percentage of people who read this story are actually subscribed. So if you're not subscribed and you end up liking this chapter, consider subscribing. It's free, and you can always change your mind.  
> Enjoy the chapter!

“Let me get this straight. You volunteered me for a double date, in which I’m supposed to hang out with Dream, while you try to make moves on Wilbur. You want me to go out with one of our regulars. On a date.”

Niki pouts, quickly replacing the frown with a customer service smile as she takes an order and passes the slip on to George. The pout returns once she has a moment to talk and he’s busy preparing a cold brew with too much sweetener to even be called coffee anymore.  
“Please don’t be mad, George, it can be between friends.” She says gently, soft eyes melting away the irritation George had been fostering for the past few minutes, “I was nervous and you know how I am about dates. I really didn’t mean to volunteer you, but I already mentioned you and then Wilbur asked Dream and it was settled before I could do anything.”

A long sigh passes George’s lips. He does know how Niki is about dating. He knows all too well about the last guy she had gone out with. They were dating for about a month before the dude made the mistake of letting her browse his phone; and Niki found out a lot more than she had wanted to. He was a total creep and even after she cut things off with him, he had started showing up to Bishop just to see her. This was before George came to Florida, but apparently Alex had met the guy in the parking lot and punched him in the nose and he never came back. Ever since then Niki has had a hard time getting back into dating.

“I know, Niki. Don’t worry, alright? I’m sure it’ll be fun. Besides, if having me around makes you feel safer, then I’m happy to help.” George offers, passing the sweetened monstrosity of a drink to her with a smile gracing his features.

Niki sets the drink down and gives George a quick hug before calling the customer to receive their order, “I think it’ll be fun. We’re gonna meet this saturday since the fair is in town!” Niki chirps, a sparkle in her eye at the prospect of something as classic as a date to the fair. George can already picture her with cotton candy in one hand, and a ridiculously oversized teddy tucked under the other arm. He has to admit, it’s a tempting offer.

Just then, Alex comes in from behind them, adjusting his apron and the hat on his head, “You guys are going on a date?”

That has Niki giggling out her melodious laugh as she dutifully wipes down the countertop, “Yep. Me and George are dating now.” She pauses to greet a woman who enters the cafe and take her order - Alex and George working it out in no time. Alex makes some joke about how George has to settle for a girl because nobody wants to date him.

“Well Dream wants to date me, so that must mean something.” George says finitely, hands on hips as he shoots Alex a prideful look. The younger man looks surprised, and George laughs quietly, “I guess we didn’t really explain the date thing, huh? We’re going on a double date with Wilbur and Dream.”

Niki hums out an ‘mhm!’ and passes them another order, oblivious to the way Alex’s eyes widen even further. George notices though. He sees his friend deflate the slightest bit, starting on one of the coffees quietly. Trying not to linger, George follows suit, curiously glancing back at Alex every few minutes, a silent plea that his friend is alright. The three of them often fall into a comfortable silence, working out orders like a well oiled machine. However, this time something heavy sits in George’s stomach, twisting up his insides and making him feel guilty even though he’s almost positive he hadn’t done anything wrong.

When Dream- or Clay (George should probably get used to saying ‘Clay’ if they’re going to be going on a date) - comes in, Niki and George are clockwork.

“Hi Dream!” Niki chirps, smiling brightly as George automatically starts on the americano he knows is about to be ordered, trying harder than he should have to not to think about the fact that his future date is right there.

George brings the americano up and stands beside Niki, eyes fleeting along the other man’s handsome features and lingering on the way his lips quirk into a smile. When Dream notices the drink already prepared, his eyes drift to George with a glimmer of something flirty.

It’s almost predatory, the way Clay runs his tongue along his teeth, sizing George up with a smile far too innocent for the look he’s giving, “I didn’t even order yet.” he says mischievously, relishing in the way George bristles and goes red. He flounders, mouth attempting to form words, but failing.

Niki giggles and nudges him, making a face that says ‘I did you a favor by volunteering you for that date’ and then she actually says something out loud, “We know your order by heart!” Niki smiles, sounding as enamored by Dream as George feels.

Clay chuckles softly, “You guys are cute. Wanna add a cinnamon roll to that?” he suggests, watching George a little more than he would usually. He studies the way George’s lithe fingers get a warm, glazed cinnamon bun off of the heating plate and place the sticky treat on a ceramic dish with a delicate accuracy, right in the center.

Niki rings up the order, watching with playful interest as Dream pays and then shifts his attention to George again, accepting the food and drink with that same flirty mischief playing on his features. The sun peeks through the clouds outside, casting through the windows and hitting Clay just right, painting him in liquid gold that makes his words sound like honey, “Thanks, George. I’m looking forward to Saturday.” and then he’s off to his corner seat, leaving George breathless and flustered while Niki is giving him that look, the one that tells him he’s absolutely doomed.

“Looks like you were right about our Georgie,” Niki teases, glancing over her shoulder to Alex, but he’s suddenly nowhere to be seen, “Oh. Where did Alex go?” She asks, sweet features turning up in a curious, lost pout.


	8. Takeout

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter, I really want to thank everyone for the comments before we get started! Your comments really truly make my day, and I read all of them!   
> Also, only a small percentage of people who read this story are actually subscribed. So if you're not subscribed and you end up liking this chapter, consider subscribing. It's free, and you can always change your mind.   
> Enjoy the chapter!

Turns out it’s really easy to underestimate the amount of anxiety that comes from a first date. Dream hadn’t been on one in well over two years, and suddenly he’s hyper aware of how long his hair is getting, the chipped polish on his nails, and those dark circles under his eyes. He’s not sure why he’s getting self conscious over his barista, but he is. There’s a fiery furnace in his chest, warming at the idea of looking good for George.  _ Impressing  _ George. 

Clay feels stupid as he makes a hair appointment for Thursday afternoon. Just a trim. It’d be really unfortunate to get a bad haircut right before a date. Applying a fresh coat of black on his fingernails, Dream realizes that he hasn’t put much effort into his appearance in a while. It almost feels nice to take a moment or two to care for himself...

It takes some hard thinking for the man to figure out how to deal with those glaring eye bags, but a quick drive to the nearest Ulta and a very helpful associate solves that problem. With plans to turn 10 minutes of painting his nails into a full blown self care night, Dream returns home with a bag of Chinese food in one hand and an Ulta bag in the other. Wilbur rolls his eyes, but doesn’t put up a fight when promised free food. 

Taking turns applying the clay mask, both of them find it more enjoyable than previously expected. Wilbur leans back against the couch beside Clay, briefly pausing to consider why they’re on the floor rather than the sofa. Clay prods experimentally at the hardening mask. 

“So you just impulsively decided you wanted to try skincare?” Wilbur asks, looking at Clay like he knows there’s something more to it. Clay watches him take a bite of lo mien, debating on telling the truth. 

He does. Because it’s Wilbur, “Yeah, yeah, you can make fun of me. I don’t want to look like an exhausted piece of shit this weekend.” Clay says, eyes floating over to the game he had put on. Wilbur’s not a fan of American football, but he lets it play anyway. Dream's team of choice is winning.

“Got a little crush on George, have you?” the Englishman teases, but it’s more of an observation than anything. Things like romantic interest are easy to pick up on when you’re as close as the two of them. 

“I wouldn’t call it a crush, but yeah. ‘M hoping this date thing goes well.” Dream closes his eyes, finding solace in the darkness. Without colours and shapes to busy his mind, Clay’s able to think about how foreign the feeling of hoping is. Maybe it’s that he hasn’t had much to wish for in the past while, or maybe it’s the realization that he’s wanting something other than Sam. It’s not George that he wants either, no, Clay is hoping for healing. 

Maybe he wants George a little bit too, but that’s something to deal with another day. 

Wilbur clasps Clay’s shoulder with a hand, pulling him out of dreamland, “I hope so too. You deserve it.” 

At first the inky blackness within him wants to argue. Clay itches to insist that he doesn’t deserve to heal yet; that he  _ wants _ to ache for Sam until they reunite. But he doesn’t. Clay doesn’t argue, because he’s finally starting to understand that he’s strong with or without someone to occupy his heart. Sure, the idea of coming back to Sam sounds fantastic, but a moment of thought helps Clay see that imagining Sam’s (still handsome) face doesn’t kick up the same butterflies it used to. Instead it makes him smile, because the memories aren’t sad. They’re beautiful and heartwarming, and  _ good _ .

And it’s time to make some new ones. 

The first new memory Clay makes is the routine face mask regimen. He and Wilbur find themselves trying all the expensive masks from Ulta that Clay had picked up, laughing at how stupid they look under the sheets of honey and aloe and whatever else is in it. On Tuesday night they drink and play Until Dawn, and on Wednesday they sit on the living room floor together as Wilbur workshops one of his songs. It’s Clay’s favourite one of Wilbur’s, about London trains and heartbreak. It’s always resonated deep in Clay’s heart, so for that night, he tries to sing along.

Another change that Clay notes is his haircut. It’s shorter than he had first anticipated, and his immediate reaction is to hate it. However, he quickly finds the shorter hair in the back to be freeing, and the fluffy mess on top frames his face nicely. Wilbur suggests that piercings would look good on him, so Clay ends up with black studs in his ears. It feels weird at first, since it's been so long since he had put earrings on, but when he sends an admittedly awkward picture of himself to the family group chat he finds the positive reinforcement he’d needed. 

The third change is... George. He goes to the coffee shop every day, just like normal, and when he spots George, they’re both beaming. George is glowing with a soft blush as he hands Clay the coffee, while Dream is looking over his soft features with admiration and excitement. The barista stutters out a compliment on the hair cut, and Dream finds himself absolutely and totally smitten. His heart swells with pride and affection, because _h_ _ e makes George stutter. _

“Hey, about this weekend…” Clay begins, trying not to shy away from his own honesty, “I’m really looking forward to spending time with you.” 


	9. Water

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In this chapter, the date begins! Are yall gonna get anything new about Big Q? Find out in this chapter!  
> Also, only a small percentage of people who read this story are actually subscribed. So if you're not subscribed and you end up liking this chapter, consider subscribing. It's free, and you can always change your mind.  
> Enjoy the chapter!

The drive to the fair is full of Niki checking her makeup in the rearview mirror at stop lights, and George rethinking his outfit choices as he drinks an ungodly amount of water from his reusable bottle. He put on a cream coloured cable knit sweater and some slim fitting jeans. That’s the best part about then going out at night; George can dress like he would back in London. Sure, he’s a bit more dressed up than he would usually be, but that’s because it’s a date, not running to tesco for more bread. 

Niki looks beautiful. She always does, but it’s apparent that she really likes Wilbur with the way she’s dressed up. She has an overall dress on with a white long sleeve underneath, and while it’s not  _ not  _ casual, it’s more than she would wear on a day out with George and Alex. 

That thought distracts George from a loose thread on his jeans, hands abandoning the string to instead turn on his phone. Sure enough there’s a text notification from Alex - that and 2 missed calls. 

**🙈🥰** **Alex From Work** **😼** 🤪 **(16/09 8:14 PM)**

Hey george? 

I have something to tell you 

Pick uuuuup 

Are you already out on your date? 

Text me when you’re done, i wanna talk 

**Me (16/09 8:39 PM)**

We’re still driving

What’s up? 

**🙈🥰** **Alex From Work** **😼** 🤪 **(19/09 8:39)**

Dw abt it

I’d rather talk when you’re done 

**Me (16/09 8:40 PM)**

Alright but if it’s serious I dont mind texting during the date

I mean it’s kinda rude but y’know

You’re important 

With that, George was interrupted by Niki patting his shoulder, “We’re here!” she basically yelps, looking into George’s eyes with a blend of excitement and nervous worry. He offers a comforting smile and tucks his phone away. 

“I promise to be a good wingman. I’ll wing you like you’ve never been winged before.” he says, eliciting a sweet laugh from Niki’s glossy lips. She seems to relax a little bit after that, Carefully climbing out of the car and looking around the sea of vehicles. In the setting sun all the cars glitter and shine with the golden hour. Niki jumps at the idea to take a picture with George, and while he can’t exactly see the beauty that is a sunset, they take a  _ really  _ nice picture. Once she has a cute selfie to start off the night, Niki is a lot less scared to kick off the date. She takes George by the hand and marches him toward the entrance of the fair. 

Texting back and forth with Wilbur as they walk, Niki navigates toward their spot in line. The both of them stop in their tracks when they actually find the tall men in line, Niki going speechless while George flushes pink, “Oh my god, Niki, why is he dressed like that!” George hisses, grabbing onto her arm and ducking behind her shoulder the slightest bit. 

Clay’s not actually dressed poorly, not at all. He’s got the perfect casual date look, torn up skinny jeans and a comfortable yellow (or green) crewneck, accessorised with a silver belt chain and black studs. George practically melts when he notices the rings on Clay’s fingers, because not only did he think this man had little to no sense of fashion, but  _ accessories _ ? George makes a mental note to thank Niki profusely later. 

“Like what you see?” Clay calls, playfully framing his face with his hands and making kissy lips at George. Wilbur rolls his eyes and elbows his roommate, offering George and Niki a bright smile as Clay continues shaking his hips and mock modelling. 

George and Niki share a look, one that screams excitement and fondness, and then George is gently tugging her into line with their dates. Wilbur mutters a soft ‘hey’ and pulls Niki into a short embrace, that warm smile still lighting up his face. George predicts her delighted giggles before she has the chance to make them. 

Pulling George’s attention away from Niki and Wilbur, Dream offers a smile, “‘s good to see you out of that apron.” 

George spares a glance to Niki and Wilbur, and once he’s sure they’re immersed in their own conversation, he grins up at Clay, “It’s good to see you know how to wear something other than basketball shorts.” 

The second he says it, he almost regrets it, but Clay laughs so hard that he holds his stomach, and that in turn makes George laugh too. The crisp night seems to come alive around them when they’re laughing together, more alive than the county fair’s twinkling lights and loud crowd of people lined up outside the gates had already made it. 

“That’s brutal!” Clay scolds, trying to soothe his aching cheeks. Niki and Wilbur are laughing at them gently, confused as to what they had missed, but appreciating the overall relaxed energy around the four of them. Suffice to say they had all come into the night jittering with nerves, but things were really looking up. 

“Sorry, sorry. But… I mean it, you look really good.” George Manages, diverting his eyes shyly. Clay seems flustered at this as their little group moves up in line.

“Thanks. Making fun of your apron was my way of saying the same to you.” 

Wilbur and Clay pay for their admission, George tries to argue that he can pay for himself, but he’s quietly grateful that his wallet will be crying just a bit less after tonight. The minute the get in, Niki’s eyes are all over the booths for games, the rides, the food stands, everything. Clay seems particularly interested in the games and George wonders if the other man is competitive. 

“Do we want to divide and conquer or find something to do all together?” Wilbur asks, and Niki immediately supplies that she’d like to go on the rides. He seems to melt at her innocent excitement, and while George isn’t a big fan of rollercoasters and the like, he wants to be there for Niki.

“I’m cool to hit up some of the rides.” Clay says, looking to George for his opinion. Nodding at his date, George smiles timidly. He’s not exactly sure why Clay’s attention is making him so flustered, he just knows that the look in his eyes is so much more lively. So much more focused and attentive, like there’s a fire behind them just for George. 

Something’s changed between now and the beginning of Clay and George’s relationship, and although it’s new; George thinks he likes it. 

A lot. 

A lot a lot. 


	10. Funnel Cake

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> in this chapter, THINGS ARE HAPPENING
> 
> Also, only a small percentage of people who read this story are actually subscribed. So if you're not subscribed and you end up liking this chapter, consider subscribing. It's free, and you can always change your mind.  
> Enjoy the chapter!

The tilt-a-whirl has all four of them smushed together in one of the cars. Niki is too busy enjoying the spins to notice the way Wilbur has his arm around her, flustered at their proximity, but willing to do anything to make the squish more comfortable. George on the other hand is hyper aware of his thigh pressed up against Dream’s, trying his best to keep from falling into his lap when the ride turns them particularly fast. Clay doesn’t mind at all though when George stupidly chooses to adjust their closeness by standing as much as the guard rail will allow as _ just _ the wrong time. The ride tosses him into Clay’s lap with a terrified yelp, life flashing before his eyes as he’s whipped to the side and into Dream’s arms. 

“You okay?!” The taller man asks, practically having to yell over the sounds of billowing wind and other fair goers. 

George squeezes his eyes shut and clings to Clay, trying his hardest _ not _ to imagine how much worse that could have turned out, “Just hold on! Don’t you dare let me go, Dream!” he barks back, completely unaware of the way Clay’s face melts into adoration as he tucks George closer to his chest. 

After that, George is too shaken up to overthink Clay’s arm protectively resting around his waist. All he knows is that it’s warm and soothes his panic, and unknowingly, he leans into the touch. 

“You guys can go ahead on another ride, George and I are gonna go by the game booths.” Clay says, thumb rubbing gentle circles into the smaller man’s hip

Wilbur smiles and nods, not lost on the way his best friend has grown undeniably fond of the man at his side, “Sounds good, we’ll text you once we’re done. If George is up to it we can do bumper cars.” He offers, looking down at Niki. 

“We can do that if you promise to keep me safe, okay Will?” She asks, tilting her head up to meet his eyes. At that, Wilbur blushes, face pulling into his trademark smitten grin. 

George let's Dream lead him over to the games, eyes following the glittering lights and bustling people as the adrenaline coursing through him begins to fade. Clay is searching for something they can play, arm still wrapped around his companion, “What- what kinda games do you like?” 

George barely has to think before answering: skeeball. He has fond memories of playing it at arcades during birthday parties and bowling events back home. Clay finds the skeeball booth and pays the operator a stupid amount of money, smiling as George recounts his eighth birthday where he had managed to bounce the ball off one of the goals and nail himself in the eye. 

“It hurt like -  _ so  _ bad, Clay, I’ll never haphazardly throw a skeeball again.” He says, chirping out an amazing giggle as they start the game. Clay is so enraptured by that laugh, lilted and bright, and absolutely adorable. They play four rounds of skeeball, all of which George wins. And while Clay is a competitive guy at the best of times, he can’t find it in himself to try to defeat George. The way he laughs and cheers ‘yes!’ with so much excitement is too beautiful for Clay to want to see him lose. If it meant that he could hear George like that, happy and bubbling over with laughter, Clay would do anything. 

“You’re so bad!” the brunet sings, poking Dream’s sides. 

Clay rolls his eyes in return, slinging the sticky hand they’d won onto George’s cheek, “I’m not bad, you’re just distracting.” 

A moment or two of silence passes between the two of them, Clay’s freckled cheeks taking on a warm blush as the sentence dissolves between them. When George notices the look of surprise on Dream’s face, he quickly processes that ‘distracting’ must equate to ‘cute’. 

“You can’t just say things like that!” he basically squeals, playfully batting at Dream’s arm as he feels his own cheeks go hot.

"Yeah I can, this is a date, idiot." Clay counters, wheezing out a gentle laugh.

They both end up laughing away the sheepish feeling of growing affection and begin to walk again, Clay taking George’s hand and intertwining their fingers; He’s nervous to initiate the hand holding, but once George’s hand is fit snugly in his own, peace washes over him in a refreshing wave. Once they arrive at another game booth that seems interesting enough, George insists that he’s actually hungry. In reality he’s simply too shy to admit that he doesn’t want to let go of the warmth of Clay’s large hands. Instead he gently tugs Dream over to a snack stall and orders them a funnel cake to share. Dream pays before George can get his wallet open. 

“Dreaaaaam” He whines, pouting at Clay as they wait for their treat. Clay almost chokes when he sees the pout on George’s face, because he’s so undeniably beautiful. And with his full bottom lip poking out and his glossy chocolate eyes pleading up at Clay, the urge to kiss and claim and hold blooms rapidly in his chest. 

“It’s cute when you call me that.” he finally manages, eyes searching George’s with an unwavering want. They scan one another’s faces for what feels like eternity, drinking in the intensity of this moment and attempting to decide what happens next. 

“Your order’s ready, sir!” a chipper voice says from behind George, snapping both men out of their special moment in time. Clay mumbles out his gratitude and takes the cake from the girl’s hands, silently spilling over with embarrassment as he picks a piece off of the treat and tosses it into his mouth. It burns his tongue. 

“Hey, Dream..? Er - Clay, I mean.” George stutters, playing with the sleeves of his jumper as they search for an unoccupied bench. Wordlessly, their eyes meet and George has to tear his gaze away because there’s something so intense and captivating in those eyes. He doesn’t want to get lost again. . 

“What’s up?” 

“C-Can I hold your hand again..?” 

In one swift motion Clay takes George’s hand in his own, and leans down to kiss those perfect, pouty lips. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just wanted to say that you all are so sweet. I love how much you care about Quackity. I promise to make him a happy boi <3 
> 
> (shameless self promo: Follow me on instagram @bunny_bons for fanart and stuff idk lol)


	11. Bittersweet

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> in this chapter; I am giving yall what you want. BIG Q TIME. Think of it like an intermission - a break from our usual Dream-George pattern.  
> Also, only a small percentage of people who read this story are actually subscribed. So if you're not subscribed and you end up liking this chapter, consider subscribing. It's free, and you can always change your mind.  
> Enjoy the chapter!

Darkness swallows the room without consideration of the soul occupying it. As the sun sets and day fades to night, all signs of luminescence are killed off by shadows. Alex could always turn on the lights, but somehow he feels that laying without them is more appropriate for how he’s staring at his phone screen expressionlessly. He has George’s last text pulled up, glaring back into Alex’s eyes as if mocking him. 

_You’re important._

Of course George cares. They’re close friends, but just that. _Friends._

Alex wants to say that that’s enough, because it’s enjoyable. Being George’s friend is amazing, he’s funny and caring, and puts up with all of Alex’s constant flirting and teasing. But those are also all the reasons his heart screams for the brunet. Things hadn’t always been so complicated. Before George, there was no reason to question his preferences. Time and time again throughout his life, Alex has been attracted to girls. Girls that made his heart sing with the way they would dote on him and the way they would return his jokes with laughter and smiles. 

Then George came around and did all those same things, and now Alex is laying in bed thinking about that smile and those eyes and the pale porcelain skin - all of which belong to his coworker. And friend. It’s almost embarrassing the way Alex tries desperately to squeeze his eyes shut and imagine the last girl he’d liked, then the one before that and then he even cycles through the guys he knows, trying to summon up affection for anyone else. It doesn’t work. 

A heavy, tired sigh tumbles from Alex’s lips as he finally lets go of his phone and rolls onto his back, eyes dancing to the glow in the dark stars that have been on his ceiling for over a decade. He’s trying not to think about how the first guy he’d ever liked is out on a date with someone tall tan and handsome, but he can’t. Instead he’s attempting to figure out how to respond to ‘you’re important’ without sounding weird. In retrospect, it’d be fine to be weird, seeing as the second George says the date is over, Alex plans on spilling his heart out. But something’s still stopping him. Maybe the idea of losing his friend is that reason, or making their work environment awkward. Alex knows deep down that it’s because he’s going to be rejected and he doesn’t want to leave George with a bad taste in his mouth.

He huffs out a breath and grabs his phone like a man on a mission, desperate to find something to distract his lovesick brain from fixating on George any longer. Alex spends nearly an hour on Instagram - then twitter, just looking through people who are famous for their looks. None of them pique his interest and he’s left confused and unsatisfied. Heading out of the dark bedroom is nearly blinding, but it helps to distract from his current predicament. 

A tiger striped puff ball pads down the hallway and brushes against Alex’s leg with a comforting mewl. He smiles and makes his way to the kitchen, companion following dutifully behind him. After feeding the cat, Alex finds himself staring out the open kitchen window. The house is quiet, so the nighttime sounds of rusting trees and chirping crickets pour in. It’s a breezy, reasonably warm night, and Alex takes a deep breath of the refreshing air. 

It’s perfect for a night out. 

Alex is glad his friends are enjoying it. 

They deserve to. 

For him though - tonight is about preparing for the worst and sulking. Beautiful weather and clear night skies have nothing on the brewing storm in Alex’s chest. He brings that storm with him back to his room, snatches up his phone and walks back to the bright living room-kitchenette. With a furry friend at his side, Alex sets out to do something. Something that’s going to hurt before it helps. 

**GOGY uwu (16/09 8:40 PM)**

Alright but if it’s serious I dont mind texting during the date

I mean it’s kinda rude but y’know

You’re important 

**Me (16/09 9:54 PM)**

You mean a lot to me too, George. 

I hope the date is going well ( ´ ∀ `)ノ～ ♡ 

He better be taking good care of you 

**Me (16/09 10:00 PM)**

Oh and you can forget abt talking after your date

I sorted it out <(￣︶￣)>

And then Alex smiles. Soft and somber, he smiles. Maybe it’s best to leave this issue for another day - a day when he can clearly understand what he wants and why he wants. Tears prick at his eyes, and with a loud cracking sob, Alex presses his face into the soft fur of his cat. Things are going to be okay in time, but right now, Alex wants to ride the wave of loneliness and heartache that comes with trying to give up affection. He thinks for a moment that talking to Niki might help him feel better, but he doesn’t want to ruin this night for anyone else. This perfect, romantic night. 

Alex will carry the hurt himself for just a while longer. 

Because nobody else deserves it. 

Not George. 

Not Niki. 

Not even Dream. 

Not Sapnap, not his other internet friends, Tommy or Toby. 

Nobody else is going to feel his hurt tonight. Because it’s a good night, and if Alex can help them preserve it as a fond memory by stowing away his emotions for one night - then he will.


	12. Fruit Juice

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> in this chapter, author is very aware of twitter blowing up, and tried to write something pleasant and less angsty!  
> Also, only a small percentage of people who read this story are actually subscribed. So if you're not subscribed and you end up liking this chapter, consider subscribing. It's free, and you can always change your mind.  
> Enjoy the chapter!

George wakes up with a smile, mind slowly emerging from the gimmering remnants of the dream he’d had. Tucked tightly against his body is the oversized penguin stuffed animal that Clay had won last night, and George nuzzles his face into it appreciatively. It smells faintly like the other man’s cologne since he’d insisted on carrying it around all night so that George wouldn’t have to. He’s still smiling, laughter bubbling past his lips at the memory of Niki pouting in envy at the ridiculously sized plush. Wilbur probably spent an ungodly amount of cash to win the puppy teddy she’d walked away with. 

Slowly, with a long, cat-like stretch, George works the sleep out of his muscles. He’s choosing to ignore the soreness in his legs as he pushes the penguin toward the wall and stands, arching toward the ceiling with a pleased sigh. He eyes his phone idly, the delighted fuzziness buzzing in his chest dimming as he thinks back to Alex’s last message. George, being the sweetheart that he is, made sure to offer an ear in case Alex still wanted to talk - but his messages had gone unanswered. 

With a shake of the head, George puts the worry aside, knowing they’ll see each other tomorrow; Instead, he shuffles down the hall to the bathroom and smiles lightly at himself in the mirror. Bedhead still going strong, he looks disheveled, but still happy. Absentmindedly, George reaches up and ghosts the pads of his fingers along his lips - smile spreading wider at the sensation. 

George always thought that kissing another man would be like fireworks, with the bright explosive taste of citrussy fruit juice and a thundering in his ears. He was wrong though. With Clay it was like the entire world crashed to a halt around them, ground shaking with their unity as Clay stroked George’s knuckles with his thumb. It tasted sweet, subtle and sugary, and sounded like nothing. It was as if the bustling people and music surrounding them had been put on mute. Clay kissed him so gently, and what was only a few seconds felt like hours together; and when they finally separated and George was back to earth, he just stared at the other man, shell shocked and red in the face. 

Even now, just staring blankly into the mirror, George’s body keens at the memory, prickling with excitement all over again. Finally tearing his gaze away from himself, George tugs off the hoodie and sweatpants he had worn to bed and turns the shower on just a little colder than he normally likes it. Under the soothing stream of refreshing water, he’s able to wash away the fire from last night and instead think of what to do next. Part of him wants to text Clay, since they’d exchanged numbers, and he’s aching to keep learning about  _ his  _ Dream. 

“My Dream?” George asks quietly, to no one but himself. His words disappear into the sound of water hitting the shower walls as George flusters all over again at the concept of being Clay’s. Exclusively. Heart Beginning to hammer against his ribs, George massages shampoo into his hair, attempting to busy his mind with something less embarrassing.

He could ask Niki about how last night went for her. Well - She’d already told George all about it on the car ride home. She rambled on and on about how they’d gone on the ferris wheel like in those romance movies, and looked out on all the lights together. Apparently Wilbur almost dropped his phone off the edge, which Niki found hilariously endearing. 

If not Niki, then maybe Alex would make a good distraction. George’s chest sinks a little at the vague texts Alex had left him with the night before. Still wanting to find out how Alex is doing, George has his mind made up. Checking in on his friend is the least he can do, so he powers through the rest of his shower at lightning speed, just to return to his phone, laying on the duvet, guarded by that huge, fluffy penguin.

**🥰** **Alex From Work** **😼** 🤪 **(16/09 10:00 PM)**

Oh and you can forget abt talking after your date

I sorted it out <(￣︶￣)>

**Me (16/09 11:52 PM)**

You sure you dont want to talk? 

I’m always here <3

**Me (17/09 09:28 AM)**

You awake? I’m worried about you 

I mean

Idk if there’s a reason to be so i wanna talk 

**🙈🥰** **Alex From Work** **😼** 🤪 **(17/09 9:28)**

Im not dead i promise 

But yeah we can talk 

**Me (17/09 09:28 AM)**

What was going on last night? 

**🙈🥰** **Alex From Work** **😼** 🤪 **(17/09 9:30)**

Aww that’s the fastest you’ve ever responded (っ˘ω˘ς ) you really are worried

Basically

Big Q likes a guy. Big Q has sexuality crisis. Big Q wants to confess to this guy like an anime schoolgirl. 

But i dont really understand my sexuality and stuff yet so i changed my mind. It’s probably not a good idea to say sumn when im still confused on it. 

**Me (17/09 09:31 AM)**

Confused like how? 

**🙈🥰** **Alex From Work** **😼** 🤪 **(17/09 9:32)**

Confused like i’ve only ever liked girls before now and now im simping for some bITCH

**Me (17/09 09:32 AM)**

Bisexuality? Have you thought about that? 

**🙈🥰** **Alex From Work** **😼** 🤪 **(17/09 9:32)**

Yeah. I’m out here on 5 year old tumblr blogs lol 

But that’s the whole deal 

Gotta go back to my hello kitty themed self discovery blog ヾ( ￣O￣)ツ

George lets out the biggest sigh of relief knowing that it wasn’t bad news or something ridiculously heavy. He’d feel awful if something really bad had happened while George was busy snogging. Ending the conversation, George finds that idle expression of peace coming back over his features. Now that that’s taken care of, he’s able to untie the towel from his waist and properly get dressed and ready for the day. Pulling on a pair of sweatpants and a -shirt, George takes a deep breath, grateful for the day away from work. He isn’t sure if he could handle seeing Clay again so soon - he knows he’d wash away into a puddle on the floor, aching to hold his hand again, but being trapped behind the confines of the counter. 

Instead of all that embarrassing desire, George can relax and play some Minecraft. 

God does he love days like this, where he has no responsibility. Doesn't owe anything to anyone. Feels good. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> always be pluggin  
> Twitter: Bunny_Bons  
> Instagram: Bunny_Bons


	13. Kind

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> in this chapter, Things go awry, but AYE SAPNAP CONTENT.  
> Also, only a small percentage of people who read this story are actually subscribed. So if you're not subscribed and you end up liking this chapter, consider subscribing. It's free, and you can always change your mind.  
> Enjoy the chapter!

Clay is not and never has been an optimist. However, he welcomes the electric feeling of waking up happy, with George curled into his side, easily. The world is dark when his eyes drift to the window, twinkling with city lights and stars. His heart swells with affection as George nuzzles into the soft, well worn fabric of Clay’s green hoodie. 

“I hate chocolate milk..” George mumbles, a soft snore following his words. 

Clay has to fight away a lovesick laugh, waiting to see if the sleeping man will expand on that thought. George does mumble little things in between soft breaths, but they aren’t coherent and are consistently drowned out as a random movie on netflix chatters on in the background. It’s George’s apartment, small and cozy, lived in and humble. It’s domestic in all the right ways; a half finished cup of apple juice on the coffee table, a comb just barely managing to balance on the entertainment stand, dust settled on top of the tv. Clay’s hopeless romantic side purrs at this, picking out little things to remember - like the KIND bar wrapper that missed the waste bin, George’s thick winter coat, laying in wait for the cooler season; most of all, he chooses to remember the photos on the wall of George and a striped grey kitten. 

Is the fourth date too soon to ask to be… boyfriends? On their second date, George insisted they find an arcade to conquer. Together they had set a total of 0 records, but it was too good of a time for either of them to care about that; and Clay’s competitive nature was sated by having defeated George in street fighter too many times to count. The third Date consisted of Clay teaching George the basics of coding. His interest was piqued at the café during his break, which he shared at Dream’s side, watching as he coded for his most recent commission. So they set up to have a sit down at a sandwich shop so George could learn the basics. Today is the fourth - cozied up on George's beige couch with a blue plush throw wrapped around their bodies as netflix plays on the screen. 

  
This date is much more personal than the rest, so that must mean something, right? Something good.

Before Clay can explore that rabbit hole any further, he’s distracted by an obnoxiously loud ringtone blaring through Goerge’s phone. The brunette whines and pushes his face further into Clay’s arm, and even when the taller man attempts to shake him awake, George barely stirs. With a nervous nagging in the back of his head, Clay reaches for the device, scanning the caller ID.

“🙈🥰Alex From Work 😼🤪”

Clay doesn’t want to answer it, he feels like it’s out of line; especially since he and Alex don’t speak very much. There’s an internal battle, something in Clay’s anxious mind worrying that something important might be going on; but he doesn’t have the chance to make up his mind, because the caller screen disappears. The blond is left staring at George’s red lock screen, catching a glimpse of his notifications. 

Clay doesn’t mean to snoop. He thinks that kind of thing is gross and uncalled for, but he just barely catches sight of a text. From Alex. 

‘What would you do if I asked you on a date’ 

He can’t get the offending item out of his hand fast enough, dropping it back onto the couch and looking down at his still sleeping partner. George is oblivious to the way Clay is welling up with anxiety, the fondness and warmth in his chest going ice cold at the thought of this thing between them ending before it could even begin. Wordlessly, Clay attempts to banish the self doubt clawing up his throat with razor sharp nails and pulls George into his body, letting the two of them fall down into a laying position. 

“Clay..?” George calls sleepily, and his voice feels like a distant symphony, singing something sweet and comforting just for Clay. 

His shaking hands still. “Just wanted to make sure you’re comfortable. Go back to sleep, okay?” Clay offers. 

George listens because this is safe. Clay’s heartbeat pounds rhythmically in his ear, and when he matches up their breathing, It’s like nothing could ruin this moment. So George sleeps, Clay’s trembling hands petting through his hair. The other man is busy trying to figure out what to do; Would it be out of line to talk to Alex himself? Should he ask George how serious he is about their relationship? Would it be wrong to ask to be boyfriends if someone else is vying for the same attention? 

There’s no answer to any of these questions - at least not ones that Clay can find alone. So with his free hand, he fumbles for his own phone, sifting through his contacts desperately. _Nick._ Nick always knows how to help, no matter what the problem is. 

**Me (03/11 7:30 PM)**

Hey dude 

**Nick ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) (03/11 7:31)**

Clay 🥺 I miss you 

Gimme smooch 

**Me (03/11 7:32 PM)**

😘

Okay so i need your help

**Nick ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) (03/11 7:32 PM)**

😘

whaddup 

**Me (03/11 7:32 PM)**

So I’ve been dating this guy George

And he has a coworker who is like

Idk he’s cool from what i know but i just saw a notif on George’s phone from him that asked about going on a date

Should I back off? I was thinking about asking him to be my boyfriend but now idk if i should 

**Nick ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) (03/11 7:34 PM)**

Wait your george works with an alex? 

I know an alex that works with a george 

**Me (03/11 7:35 PM)**

Wait 

Really? The cafe is called bishop

**Nick ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) (03/11 7:35 PM)**

Yeah fuck

Alex has been telling me about how he likes this guy at work who’s been seeing someone

Im so sorry dude i totally told him to go for it

**Me (03/11 7:35 PM)**

What do i DO

**Nick ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) (03/11 7:36 PM)**

Talk to george about it dude

I mean like

If he want to test the waters with both of you then he can do that

But like yknow you’ll never know unless you ask and if you back down he’ll probably just think you lost interest 

**Me (03/11 7:36 PM)**

I love you man

I love you

**Nick ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) (03/11 7:37 PM)**

I love you more bro >3<

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love you guys so much and i'm real sorry it's been a while since the last chapter! I got big writers block.  
> follow me on...  
> Instagram @bunny_bons for art  
> Twitter @Bunny_Bons for updates on the fics!


	14. Vanilla

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In this chapter, Gogy says: F e e l i n g s
> 
> Also, only a small percentage of people who read this story are actually subscribed. So if you're not subscribed and you end up liking this chapter, consider subscribing. It's free, and you can always change your mind.  
> Enjoy the chapter!

Clay is leaning up against the door frame, smiling weakly at George with something unreadable in his eyes. Those beautiful amber coloured eyes (that George now knows to be green) muse about George’s features with reverence, bathing the man in question with a comforting freshness. 

“Are you still okay with driving me to Palm Bay tomorrow?” George asks, absentmindedly tugging his lip in between his teeth and looking up at the other man. His heart clenches at the way Clay looks, cool night breeze blowing through the door and tousling his hair as moonlight casts a white glow on his tan, freckled cheeks. 

“If you still want me to.” he responds, reaching forward to take George’s hand in his own, swinging it half heartedly as the look on his face slips into something calmer, less restless. George glances down at their intertwined fingers, Clay’s chipped nail polish and calluses and his own leith hands, then back at his face. He loves the way they contrast. 

There’s a beat of silence, just long enough for their fondness for one another to communicate through nothing but contact and smiles and their beautifully synchronous breaths, “I do.” 

Clay chooses then to lean forward and capture George’s lips with his own. George always arches up into these kisses, going onto his tip toes to feel the littlest bit closer - as if they aren’t already touching. He doesn’t think he’ll ever get used to the absolute bliss that comes from moments like this - where Clay feels as far from the mysterious enigma that was ‘Dream.’

When they separate, George knows Clay actually has to go this time, so he squeezes the other man’s hand, eyes still lingering on Clay’s. 

“I’ll see you tomorrow, babe.” the blonde says, eyes going wide as George shakes with laughter. It’s rare to see Clay go shy or flustered, but every time it happens, George can’t help but swell with pride in being the cause. 

“Oh - and you got a call when we were napping.” he manages through a bit of a stutter, smiling softly, almost solemnly, as he departs from the flat, waving goodnight as he goes. 

George doesn’t let his confusion stop him from sending a quick ‘goodnight!’ out the door. He wasn’t expecting a call. With a furrowed brow, he makes his way back to the couch where he’d been resting only minutes ago. Mindlessly shutting off the TV, George opens his phone as he settles into the seat. One missed call ( 🙈🥰 Alex From Work  😼 🤪 ). 7 text messages. 

Humming in thought, George opens the messages, completely unprepared for what they contain. His mouth goes dry and the sound of blood rushing fills his ears. Suddenly that pensive look on Clay’s face makes a lot more sense as everything else jumbles together in a wave of confusion. 

‘This is probably going to be weird’ 

‘But I’d beat myself up if i didn’t at least try’ 

‘I think i might like you a lot’ 

‘And i know you’re dating someone’ 

‘So you can ignore this if you want’

‘But’

‘What would you do if i asked you on a date’

He wants to scream in frustration, cursing his love life for always being so complicated all the time. Instead of screaming and getting a noise complaint, George falls forward, mushing his face helplessly into a fluffy throw pillow that he thinks is probably orange. It still smells a vanilla milkshake and tobacco - Clay's cologne. 

Alex is a sweetheart, and the last thing George wants to do is hurt him. But Clay has already claimed a part of his heart. It feels surreal, almost impossible to explain the hat the blonde is so charming and caring, always putting George’s feelings first. He’s so comforting and funny, teasing George and making fun of him in a playful way of flirting as he gives him that  _ look.  _ Those amber eyes sing something so loving - just for George. Nobody else gets those looks. 

Despite his current denial, George knows that he has to find a way to let Alex down, but the idea of ruining one of his very few friendships is nauseating. Niki and Alex are high on his list of favorite people, and for the first time in his life he’s finally found a job that he likes, with equally as good of coworkers. A shaky sigh pushes past his lips - lips that Clay had just kissed - and George sits back up, mussing his hair in a nervous habit. Unlocking his phone screen yet again, he leaves one hand on his face in hopes of alieving some of the stress thumping around in his ribcage.

Those same messages glare back at him. 

**Me (03/11 10:32 PM)**

I’d probably have to say no. You’re probably one of my closest friends and I really don’t want to complicate that. No reason to fix something that’s not broken, right?

George wonders if that’s insensitive. Carefully, He avoids mentioning Clay or the continually growing feelings between them. 

**Me (03/11 10:32 PM)**

But thank you for telling me. I’d much rather we be honest with one another than anything else.

With a heavy sigh, he disgards his phone, determined to avoid the conversation. With his awful sleep schedule, it’s no big deal if he spends a few hours mindlessly practicing building lines of code, trying to keep thoughts of his messy social life at bay. It’s hard with the polaroid of himself and Alex and Niki hung above his desk. And the giant plush penguin (now named Mr.Flip) glaring at him from his bed. But for now, George manages to keep his mind calm, lost in lines HTML.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> for the record in case anyone was worried, i mean tobacco as in the fragrance. i promise that Clay dont smoke in this fic <3  
> always be pluggin!  
> Twitter for updates on this fic: @Bunny_Bons  
> Instagram for art: @Bunny_Bons


	15. Sugarcane

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In this chapter, I present to you: the end. I hope you guys like it! 
> 
> Also, only a small percentage of people who read this story are actually subscribed TO ME. So if you're not subscribed and you end up liking this chapter, consider subscribing. It's free, and you can always change your mind.  
> Enjoy the chapter!

Florida wakes up cold and lonely on a sunday morning, soft breeze shaking palm trees until their leaves sound like rainfall. Days like this are among Clay’s favorites, when the world feels peacefully cloudy and uncharacteristically quiet. With light footsteps, he maneuvers through the house, dressing and gathering his car keys in a silent battle not to wake Wilbur. Absently stepping into the cooling air, Clay tugs his phone from his pocket to text George, halting himself in a misty confusion. A text from an unknown number sits at the top of a long list of notifications, glaring at Clay mysteriously. 

**Unknown Number (04/11 12:05 AM)**

Hey this is Clay, right? 

**Me (04/11 07:49 AM)**

Who’s asking?

**Unknown Number (04/11 07:52 AM)**

Alex. I work with George? 

I was wondering if you could do me a favor.

**Me (04/11 07:52 AM)**

Depends on the favor. I saw your message yesterday.

**Unknown Alex (04/11 07:54 AM)**

You should ask George to be your boyfriend soon

Officially

He really likes you and I think you’re good for him 

I want him to be happy 

and … yeah my message from last night probably confused him

So maybe if you want to, you should talk to him about going steady

I think it’d make the situation be a little easier on his mind

**Me (04/11 07:56 AM)**

Thanks. I’ve been thinking about it anyways. 

How did you get this number? 

Shaking the cold from his bones, Clay pockets the device and allows mumbles of curses to be swallowed up by the wind. Supposedly Alex asked Niki, who asked Wilbur - and of course Wilbur would do almost anything the blonde girl asks. It’s only a few long strides to his car, of which Clay spends attempting to clear his mind. He wants to ask George that ever important question, but not because  _ Alex  _ tells him to. 

The drive to George’s apartment is consumed by Clay’s troubled heart, pulsing stubbornly with that same ache that George always seems to inspire. A need to have and hold and kiss and claim. Clay wants George. He wants him in so many ways, but most of all he wants that beautiful domesticity of a relationship gone right. 

This is only affirmed when George sleepily clambers into the passenger side, rubbing at his chocolate eyes before tilting himself forward to press a kiss to Clay’s cheek. 

“Morning sunshine.” he greets, watching as the shorter man pulls the fleece sweater tighter around himself. 

“It’s so early…” George says poutily, nuzzling into the car seat as if doing so will make the tough cushion into the plush surface of a bed. Out of adoration, Clay doesn’t mention that it’s usually around now that George starts his shift at work - he thinks George is lovely like this. Tired and real. 

Hesitation is something Clay always has to fight with before showing his affection, but this time he gently cradles George’s hand in his own and places it on the shift stick. George quirks a brow in response but finds himself melting into a smiley, blushing mess as the warmth of the other man’s hand falls over his own and the drive to Palm Bay begins. 

“Y’know, it really isn’t so early.” Clay offers, focused on avoiding the bumps and cracks in the road so that George’s head, resting on the window, won’t be disturbed too much, “Were you up late?” 

“Yeah.” George says absently, small hand twitching under the weight of Clay’s. Sparing a glance to meet those beautiful coffee coloured eyes, they share a brief look of understanding. 

“You can nap if you need to. I’ll wake you up when we get there.” 

George sleeps through the whole drive, brows pinched together even in his unconscious moments. Clay barely peeks glances at George, unwilling to sacrifice their safety - but even those short, fleeting looks speak loud and clear to the idea that George had it rough last night. Dark circled eyes, pouty lips, and a fitful sleep that reads of a troubled mind. Clay is no stranger to nightmares. In an attempt to soothe the sleeping man who pulls the strings of Clay’s heart, he turns on the radio, searching out a soft enough song and rubbing slow, rhythmic figure eights into George’s knuckles until his face relaxes into bliss. 

When he gently shakes George out from the jaws of sleep, they’re parked outside of a tech shop, with the car’s heater quietly thrumming the cold away from their bones. 

“We’re here?” George asks, covering his mouth as a yawn forces its way out. 

They’re still holding hands. 

Clay smiles at that, nodding as George intertwines their fingers and stretches out like a cat, dragging the extra arm along for the ride without thought, “Yeah. ready for your first  _ real  _ PC?” he teases, softening completely at the way George lets out a squeaky laugh and nods his head, finally showing a smile. 

“You look so pretty when you smile.” 

It’s an absentminded statement, one that Clay doesn’t even know he’s said until George is blushing furiously and shrugging into the collar of his fleece in an attempt to hide. 

“Well I like it when you call me pretty” George tries, finally disconnecting their hands and climbing out of the car into the cool air. The other man does the same and even though George is too flustered to try for eye contact, he makes sure to intertwine their fingers once again. Clay’s grip sings of comfort and safety and a promise of something more - and George can’t get enough of it. 

Clay carries almost all the assets for George’s new PC out the door in a stack, George spotting him anxiously all the way to the trunk of the car, where they safely store the parts he’d ordered, “Thank you, but I seriously could’ve helped you carry that. I was terrified.” He breathes playfully, looking up into Clay’s gold eyes and beginning to relax. 

Hands seek out George’s hips, holding him steady and firm, “You just don’t want to admit that I’m strong and hot~” he singsongs, pulling a delicate laugh from George’s lips as he pushes against Clay’s chest. He doesn’t push too hard, not hard at all really, because when Clay leans in to taste his lips, George arches up into it all the same. 

George’s busy mind would normally scream at PDA like this - making out in the autumn air in the middle of a parking lot - but somehow Clay’s strong hands ground him and make him feel  _ so  _ secure, “Yeah, maybe I think that. Just a little.” he mumbles into the kiss, savoring the last of it before they break apart. 

“Yeah?” 

“Yeah.” 

Clay sucks in a breath, allowing the icy morning winds to burn his lungs just a little as he brings a hand up to cup George’s cheek. Their eyes meet once again, affections melting together and mingling into something entirely it’s own as George offers a teasing smile and kisses the other man’s palm softly. 

“Can I have you?” Clay exhales, eyebrows turning up in a nervous little pinch as he grips George’s hip just a bit tighter. 

Those chocolate eyes that earlier carried so much worry and weight widen in beautiful surprise, “Have me?” 

“I want to be your boyfriend.” the blond clarifies, nervously searching George’s expression for an answer. He silently hopes that this is an appropriate time - That Alex wasn’t wrong about it being good for George. 

_ He wants to be good for George. _

“I-I want that as well.” George finally mumbles, eyes springing with tears as he laughs wetly and presses his face further into the large hand cradling his face. Clay throws them into a hug, once again, simply standing in the middle of a parking lot in an unfamiliar city under a slowly parting overcast. 

The drive home is high energy. George finds a station of classics when fiddling with the stereo and then he’s bouncing in his seat, veins surging with the excitement of this new development in their relationship and allowing him to sing ‘living on a prayer’ without a care in the world. Clay joins him with a bright smile, chest soaring with glee at this perfect moment. 

George is panting breathlessly at a break in the music, relaxing into his seat as Clay wheezes through laughter and watches the road closely, “You’re so good, George. Thank you for calling me hot on accident that one time…” he says, using a stop light to lean over the console and kiss George once again, watching his perfect smile spread over his face. 

“Yeah, yeah. Shut up and drive weirdo, I’ll tell you all about how hot you are  _ if  _ you manage to avoid a car crash” He laughs, poking Clay’s cheek as he looks away with pink cheeks. 

“I’ll have you know I’m fantastic at driving.” he says, Only leaning back over into his own seat after bestowing another chaste kiss upon George’s perfect pouty lips. 

Clay spends the rest of the car ride listening to George sing along to songs on the radio. Some are totally half assed while others are beautifully painted in George’s lilted accent. He feels fuzzy with the exciting idea of life going on like this - learning of George and his quirks, his flaws and the sweet things he does when he’s happy. It’s all so exciting in the most mundane way, but Clay is brimming with sunshine and sugarcane and everything you could possibly relate to  _ joy. _

“We’re almost back in town… wanna stop for coffee?” George asks, the corners of his mouth tilting into a smile.

“Only if it’s bitter.” 

“And iced,” George adds fondly, “even in the winter.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you're sad that the story is over, I have just started a new Karlnap fic! It's called 'My Boy Is Miles Away' and I plan to be working out a new dnf fic soon! So subscribe :3
> 
> always be plugging!  
> Find me on twitter @bunny_bons for updates on the ao3 stuff!  
> Find me on instagram @bunny_bons for art!


End file.
